Until My Last Breath

Another Think Coming

The last bitter dregs of summer break trickled by painstakingly slow as August came into plain view. My vacation consisted of watching Hermione Granger and my fanatical brother, Ron, engage themselves in a series of rows of which I just barely found mildly amusing. This is not to mention my daily physical activity of fending off Harry Potter's rather persistent owl, Hedwig, with the end of Ron's Cleansweep. As a result of my futile attempts, I now possessed a hefty pile of letters on my windowsill (all equally unopened), and bandaged fingers from where Hedwig would peck at me when I refused to respond. It occurred to me that it was just like Harry to train his owl to be exactly like himself: touchy and hard-headed. I assumed he thought that I could go back to just being friends after he dropped me like a hot Quaffle. Well, he had another think coming.

I did not even have the slightest interest as to what his letters contained. I was almost positive they were overflowing with comments pertaining to my maturity... or lack thereof. I did not care then, I still don't care now. Nor do I mind that he'd rather be the Boy Who Lived than the boy who loved. He always had to be the hero and I hated myself for liking that attribute about him. I even had to fight the urge to send him something on his birthday, but in order for my grudge to work, I had to stay true to it.

"Kids, come down for supper!" My mother's voice thundered throughout the Burrow, shaking me out of my stupor.

As I opened the door to my bedroom, I could see several heads making their way downstairs. This included the brown, bushy one of Hermione Granger and the alarmingly red one of Ron. As per usual, the mouths attached to the heads were working a mile-a-minute.

"-and for goodness' sake, Ronald, if you'd stop badgering me, perhaps I might offer to help you!" she said exasperatedly, her shrill voice fading as she descended.

I could only assume she was talking about Apparating. My poor, misguided brother never could quite master the art of transporting all of his eyebrows.

I trudged sullenly down the staircase and into our kitchen where I was shocked with a warm greeting by several members of the Order of the Phoenix seated opposite my father. The summer had been abysmally quiet and what with Dumbledore gone, there was no one to head up the Order. I assumed that it had fallen apart amidst the despair due to the loss as no one had contacted us since the previous summer. Naturally, I was mistaken.

"Wotcher, Ginny," Nymphadora Tonks winked at me as I sat down beside George who was bewitching his crumpet to break apart into pieces and fly one-by-one up Fred's nostrils.

Her ever-changing hair was amassed upon her head in tight, black pin curls with several long strands cascading down her back. She seemed a lot brighter than the last time I'd seen her although her pretty, youthful face was etched with lines of strain and worry and she seemed a bit jumpy. Mad-Eye Moody nodded a hello to me from her right, and although he had not changed, the man to her left was barely recognizable.

Remus Lupin forced me a feeble smile through tight, cracked lips and although I grinned back, I could not help but ogle, transfixed by his right state.

He too possessed a youthful face, however years of werewolf transformations and something else I did not know had disfigured and scarred his features. His nose now looked as though it were broken and fixed haphazardly so now it sat awkwardly upon his battered face. I tried but failed miserably to find an inch of flesh that wasn't carved by a wound and his hair was now nearly all white, appearing to be falling out in some places -or ripped out, for all I knew.

All-in-all, Mad-Eye appeared to be the best-looking of the bunch, considering he could not very well get much worse.

My heart went out to Lupin and I found myself gazing questioningly at Tonks. She merely shook her head and focused her attention on the plate placed before her by my mother who was bustling about.

"Er- hello, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin... it's good to see you all again," I managed to choke out, half because I was still in a state of shock and half because a piece of George's crumpet had flown swiftly up my nose. Mum was quick to act, swatting him on the back of the head, causing him to choke on the meatloaf he was consuming.

Hermione and Ron's argument had tapered out and they were now pleasantly involving themselves in a conversation with our three new guests, both of them as eager as I was for answers.

"So, how have things been? What have you been up to?" Hermione began, ever the inquisitive one.

Before she could answer, Mum swooped down upon us all and set food down in front of Dad and herself.

"These three are here to go and fetch Harry. Isn't that wonderful? It's been far, far too long and heavens knows what those horrible Muggles have been doing with him! I bet he hasn't eaten a thing, poor dear-"

Although her concern was genuine, her cause for the speech was insincere. It was clear to all of us that she had no intention of letting us know what has been going on out in the Wizarding world.

My panic at remembering I would have to actually face Harry had been pushed aside by a new nagging thought.

I stole a glance at Hermione and saw that her eyes were as suspicious as mine probably looked. It became clear to both of us that the summer had not been as uneventful as we thought it was. We were merely just kept in the dark à la Molly Weasley. I could have smacked myself in the head several times with the ever-useful Cleansweep kept upstairs in my room but since we were enjoying the meal, I thought better of it.

My parents, Tonks and Mad-Eye were deep into a conversation of their own, with a very morose Lupin putting in his two cents every once in awhile. We wanted answers though, and I was determined to get them.

I nudged George's leg under the table to que him into asking question but instead I got an 'Oi!' and an indignant look. I sighed wearily and ploughed onwards on my own.

"Why didn't you go and pick up Harry earlier?"

It's not like I was actually eager to see him... it was quite the opposite, actually. I'd give anything not to see his face again but seeing how this was inevitable considering his celebrity status, I've resigned to doughtily ignoring him when he arrives and secretly hexing him behind his back.

The chatter had fallen silent and all eyes turned to me. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were all searching for an answer that would be cryptic yet informative at the same time.

Tonks was the first to speak.

"You see," she said, clearing her throat as Mum stood up and with a wave of her wand, cleared our plates and refilled them with a sort of wobbly green cake that I had never seen before, "we figured that since Dumbledore-"(at this, the adults seemed to stir slightly in their chairs) "-is gone, the safest place for Harry was obviously at the Dursleys' until he came of age, as per Dumbledore's request. Now that he's seventeen, he is most likely better off here and under our protection."

I stifled a laugh. I wonder if she knew that Harry didn't tolerate protection very well, especially from other people. I would have continued an interrogation except for the fact that they were all now fully emerged into their wobbly desserts and I had an inkling that anything I had to say would fall on deaf ears.

As if on cue, Fred, George, Hermione, Ron and I, all stood up and excused ourselves from the table and before Mum could spell us all to our seats, we bounded upstairs, knocking one another over in our haste to get away.

I followed the others into Ron's room, where we had most of our discussions. I shut the door and wrapped Fred and George's useful new invention around the handle. Weasley's Liquid Locks, they had called them. Disguised as two strands of braided blonde hair, once wrapped around a door handle, they would melt into silver. When they solidify, they seal the door, making it nearly impossible to open except for on the inside.

I hurried to sit down beside Hermione on Ron's bed as Fred, George and Ron took a seat on the cot that had already been set up for Harry when he returned to the Burrow.

"Well, I think it's safe to say they're hiding something from us," Ron said, resting his chin on his knees.

We all raised our eyebrows.

"Really," Fred gasped in mock astonishment, "I didn't catch that."

"All this time I just thought that everything had been settling down and the Death Eaters had been driven underground or something. It must just have been wishful thinking."

I turned to Hermione. "Deep down, we all knew that could never really be true. Even if they were underground, that would only mean something was building up, not settling down. Voldemort has been busy and it seems like we're the only ones who were unaware of this."

Ron, Fred and George, having blanched at the sound of Voldemort's name, were turning a bright hue of red with anger.

Ron shook his head in disgust. "It's not fair. Knowing You-Know-Who, it probably has something to do with Harry, and he's our friend! We should know exactly what's going on in his life so we can help. It makes me feel so bloody useless..." He stared at the door, deep in thoughts of his own.

"I wish they would just tell us something," Hermione said. "That way, we could probably come up with some sort of plan to help the Order. They can't be doing very well what with all that's happened. I mean, just look at poor Professor Lupin."

I was glad that I wasn't the only one who had thought he looked horrible. I nodded in agreement but couldn't bring myself to talk.

The others continued speaking but I tuned out, lost in my own thoughts of what might be happening right now. Mass murders could be being committed as we spoke and we would be none the wiser, comfy in our happy little home. We were hidden from a reality we all should have become accustomed to, and I had a feeling it would hurt us later on.

"-by the way, have you been getting letters from Harry?"

Hermione's question brought me back to the room as I thought it was directed at me. I was about to give her a resolute 'no' when Ron answered for me.

"Not really. I sent him a few but only got about two or three back from him. The poor bloke is probably having a hell of a time."

I suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt as I thought about all of the letters I had received sitting in my room and begging to be opened.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in worry. "I haven't many, either. I wish he'd just talk to us and tell us what's happening. I bet even he knows a whole lot more than we do."

I had been gaping at my brothers with my mouth open and when she said this, it snap shut instantly, my teeth piercing my tongue. I tasted the bitter tang of blood but I was too excited to fuss about it because for the first time all summer, my brain began to work. Harry's letters! Of course! He must have written about the occurrences outside these four walls. I've had the answers I wanted all along but was too stubborn to search for them.

I stood abruptly causing Hermione to bounce around a bit on Ron's old bed.

"Wait here."

"What's gotten into you?" Fred asked as they all watched me unweave the Liquid Locks and rush towards my room.

I nearly ripped the door off its hinges in anticipation but stopped dead in my tracks as I looked from my open window to my bed.

Hedwig was hopping about my comforter, waiting for a treat for her delivery of a long, poorly wrapped package lying in front of her. I thought this extremely odd, especially since my birthday wasn't until a few weeks, nor was Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I hurried to my bedside to unwrap it.

I tore viciously at the Muggle newspaper used to conceal Harry's parcel and when it fell open to reveal what was inside, I stumbled over my feet and knocked into my dresser, sending tubes of lip gloss and nail polish crashing to the floor.

I was certain that my heart had stopped beating at that moment because lying on my bed was Harry's Firebolt. His prized possession given to him from his deceased Godfather, Sirius Black, whom he'd loved dearly.

On top of it was a small piece of parchment in which he'd scrawled,

'You'll need this more than I will. - Harry'.

I felt hot tears pricking the back of my eyes and as I willed my heart to beat again, I knew that this could only mean one thing:

Harry was going to run.